January 2008

01/20/2008

For years I never corrected the mispronounciation of my name.
It never made a difference until I had to accept my James Beard award when Lidia called out Alice FEARing. I was a sport about it.
Recently, a friend of mine told me that Peter Wasserman (who should know better) questioned her accuracy, "Why are you pronouncing her name Fire-ing?"
Peter knows me longer, so she doubted herself.
Even someone I had an affair with about 17 years ago introduced me this summer as Fear-ing.
Ouch.
Two years ago my mother, who has been a Feiring since 1946 told me, maybe we should give up and change the spelling of our name so people can get it right.
Hell, if that was the case, I'd just as soon take her maiden name of Avrech, I like it so much better. It's too late for that. So, after years of being a sheep and letting the world call me what they felt like I'm making a request.
Fire-ing as in line. Fire-ing squad as in ring of fire. Fire-ing.
Many thanks. Appreciate it.

The esteemed Jeremy came to the research rescue and just wrote in to clear up the confusion (see the previous entry) about a wine label bearing the name Guilio Mascarello on it. The question in need of an answer was: did Guilio actually vinify the wine?
Dr. J, as I refer to him in my book (chapter 6, Desperately Seeking Scanavino)
had this to say:
Considering how old Giulio must have been by 1971, (1895-1981--wine was bottled in 1978) it seems unlikely he was making wine.
In my research (Martinelli) I came across how Bartolo said his father Guilio, was a n�gociant for Fontanafredda "forty or fifty years ago." According to the anecdote's chronology -- which is imprecise -- that's probably the 1920s or 30s. The first Mascarello label appeared in 1918 according to Martinelli.
It seems that in 1978, the Cavalieri del Tartufo tasted and selected the Mascarello 1971 for their own label. The must have called it Giulio Mascarello as a homage to Bartolo's father.**
Dr. J, to the rescue. Many thanks. It's not a conclusive answer but it is grist for the mill or rather tannin for the barrel.

The esteemed Jeremy came to the research rescue and just wrote in to clear up the confusion (see the previous entry) about a wine label bearing the name Guilio Mascarello on it. The question in need of an answer was: did Guilio actually vinify the wine?
Dr. J, as I refer to him in my book (chapter 6, Desperately Seeking Scanavino)
had this to say:
Considering how old Giulio must have been by 1971, (1895-1981--wine was bottled in 1978) it seems unlikely he was making wine.
In my research (Martinelli) I came across how Bartolo said his father Guilio, was a n�gociant for Fontanafredda "forty or fifty years ago." According to the anecdote's chronology -- which is imprecise -- that's probably the 1920s or 30s. The first Mascarello label appeared in 1918 according to Martinelli.
It seems that in 1978, the Cavalieri del Tartufo tasted and selected the Mascarello 1971 for their own label. The must have called it Giulio Mascarello as a homage to Bartolo's father.**
Dr. J, to the rescue. Many thanks. It's not a conclusive answer but it is grist for the mill or rather tannin for the barrel.

01/16/2008

I was reading about illegal fish in the New York Times. And it struck me how the world is about to go into starvation mode, or at least deprivation.
Forget fish or greens ($16 a pound for the best ones at Union Square), but $20-$40 for a f**ng fish and chips made or sting ray? And with the rising price of wine, $16 a bottle for every day fare with the current price increase?
And then in the middle of all of this deprivation I read Eric Asimov's regalation about the Barolos he drank at Doug Polaner's house and I threw myself over, waddled and wallowed into the muddy, gritty grave of jealousy.
It wasn't pretty.
The fish coupled with the account of the wines Mr. A got to not taste but drink, drink, drink......he got to drink the wines that modernity tried to squelch, take to the gallows, poison, turn into Stepford wives (and did all of the above)....he got to drink the ones I long for and crave, well, reading about it made me fall off the horse of good positivity.
I am not proud of my reaction. It is terribly petty. Because there is no more worthy writer to get to taste those jewels and celebrate them. But with the price of gold so high,reality smacked me in the puss and made me feel deep in my bones that we (our nation) might well be on the verge of a beans, rice and bathtub gin diet, at least after the Loire Gamay runs out. ( I am not a sturdy girl. I won't survive. I need Barolo and greens).
But, back to the tasting. One wine he had that dug in between the T5 & T6 was the wine he said he drank of Bartolo's father that was labeled Giulio Mascarello.
I've experienced jealousy before, romantic jealousy. It sucks. Okay, that was worse but this is pretty bad. I know, it's indulgent, it's being spoiled brat, it's not like I haven't had old wine, and I don't begrudge him, in fact I am glad he could go and tell me (us) about it, but not experiencing them makes me sad. But, under the new regime of the positive me, shouldn't it make me giddy and delighted that someone who deserves them drank them?
Well, yes, I am but that's the rational. The irrational is jealous. Yet wine jealousy has no place in my new (Super Ego) guard. And if I am fair to myself, it's not even that kind of jealousy, it's kind of nose pressed to the glass kind of stuff. But that's another story.
One thing will make this rant all worthwhile and allow me to turn it into a quest instead of a tantrum is knowledge!
And for this I turn to you.
Now,that label. Mascarello wines before Bartolo had his way with them (can't remember the year but in 70's?) always were labled Cantina Mascarello, no? From whence the Guilio? And in 1971? Bartolo was certainly making the wine for the Cantina then, so what is the story on this wine? Was Guilio even alive? What if they brought him back for one last vinification gasp? How cool would that be?
This might be a job for the master of this sort of thing, Jeremy Parzen.
Let's wait. Maybe he'll show up with the answer.

I was reading about illegal fish in the New York Times. And it struck me how the world is about to go into starvation mode, or at least deprivation.
Forget fish or greens ($16 a pound for the best ones at Union Square), but $20-$40 for a f**ng fish and chips made or sting ray? And with the rising price of wine, $16 a bottle for every day fare with the current price increase?
And then in the middle of all of this deprivation I read Eric Asimov's regalation about the Barolos he drank at Doug Polaner's house and I threw myself over, waddled and wallowed into the muddy, gritty grave of jealousy.
It wasn't pretty.
The fish coupled with the account of the wines Mr. A got to not taste but drink, drink, drink......he got to drink the wines that modernity tried to squelch, take to the gallows, poison, turn into Stepford wives (and did all of the above)....he got to drink the ones I long for and crave, well, reading about it made me fall off the horse of good positivity.
I am not proud of my reaction. It is terribly petty. Because there is no more worthy writer to get to taste those jewels and celebrate them. But with the price of gold so high,reality smacked me in the puss and made me feel deep in my bones that we (our nation) might well be on the verge of a beans, rice and bathtub gin diet, at least after the Loire Gamay runs out. ( I am not a sturdy girl. I won't survive. I need Barolo and greens).
But, back to the tasting. One wine he had that dug in between the T5 & T6 was the wine he said he drank of Bartolo's father that was labeled Giulio Mascarello.
I've experienced jealousy before, romantic jealousy. It sucks. Okay, that was worse but this is pretty bad. I know, it's indulgent, it's being spoiled brat, it's not like I haven't had old wine, and I don't begrudge him, in fact I am glad he could go and tell me (us) about it, but not experiencing them makes me sad. But, under the new regime of the positive me, shouldn't it make me giddy and delighted that someone who deserves them drank them?
Well, yes, I am but that's the rational. The irrational is jealous. Yet wine jealousy has no place in my new (Super Ego) guard. And if I am fair to myself, it's not even that kind of jealousy, it's kind of nose pressed to the glass kind of stuff. But that's another story.
One thing will make this rant all worthwhile and allow me to turn it into a quest instead of a tantrum is knowledge!
And for this I turn to you.
Now,that label. Mascarello wines before Bartolo had his way with them (can't remember the year but in 70's?) always were labled Cantina Mascarello, no? From whence the Guilio? And in 1971? Bartolo was certainly making the wine for the Cantina then, so what is the story on this wine? Was Guilio even alive? What if they brought him back for one last vinification gasp? How cool would that be?
This might be a job for the master of this sort of thing, Jeremy Parzen.
Let's wait. Maybe he'll show up with the answer.

01/11/2008

This is so American, how could it be French?
check THIS out.
Wine articles in France could be interpreted as advertising and so they must carry health warnings? The concept is very Orwellian. Extremely un-French. Insulting to journalists everywhere. Or......is there another story lurking underneath the reportage?
After rereading the Decanter article I was wondering if the "editorial" in question was really and "advertorial" (one of those sections that look like editorial but paid for by private brands, in other words, ads in article clothing), they blew the cover on brand funded stories and must fess up?

This is so American, how could it be French?
check THIS out.
Wine articles in France could be interpreted as advertising and so they must carry health warnings? The concept is very Orwellian. Extremely un-French. Insulting to journalists everywhere. Or......is there another story lurking underneath the reportage?
After rereading the Decanter article I was wondering if the "editorial" in question was really and "advertorial" (one of those sections that look like editorial but paid for by private brands, in other words, ads in article clothing), they blew the cover on brand funded stories and must fess up?

01/10/2008

Having a blog is dangerous. Sometimes I think I am talking to myself but other people read it and they get pissed off at me and then I realize I have indeed been careless (especially when friendships are involved). Without an editor keeping me in line, I can find myself being a tad too snarky---so much more readable than being nice.
But at least for the next week, I am only to channel the Ms. Nice side of me. (We'll see who breaks first, me or you.)
My niceness won't be faux. And I will write about things that I appreciate! That make me smile, happy ...and I'm not even allowed to indulge in any self-deprecation, no matter how tempting that may be. I've already started in my previous blog and note on Jadot.
Which brings me to Ethel.
Some of you might remember my mother (see the Shalom Auslander entry for one). I get such a kick writing about her because she is at once familiar and an original. (And if any of you need a new watch or gold or diamonds you should go visit her shop on the Bowery --email me for the details. Consider this a family ad.)
But, Ethel is indeed a piece of work. When she heard the new me over the phone she asked about it.
Ethel: So, what's this new positive attitude about?
Me: Oh Mom. I just, I (stammer), you see the world is so much better if you walk outside with an open heart and great people with warmth instead of fear.
Ethel: Sounds scary. Sounds suspect. Are you okay?
Me: It's the New Year Resolution. I'm testing it out. I think this is going to be big.
Ethel: Just don't forget, to be real and to be sarcastic. Don't turn into a phony on me.
This is the wisdom from a woman who things Carmel Matuk Rouge (naturally sweet) is G-d's gift to wine.
L'chaim.
Which brings me to the burgundies of Pierre Naigeon. Know them?

I'm hunting the Leon Trotskys, the Philip Roths, the Chaucers and the Edith Whartons of the wine world. I want them natural and most of all, I want them to speak the truth even if we argue. With this messiah thing going on, I'm trying to swell the ranks of those who crave the differences in each vintage, celebrate nuance and desire wines that make them think, laugh, and feel. Welcome.

And, if you'd like a signed copy of either THE BATTLE FOR WINE AND LOVE OR HOW I SAVED THE WORLD FROM PARKERIZATION or NAKED WINE, feel free to contact me directly.